Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Portugal and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1965 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing ABBA to the funk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by Sexual Harrassment. All the underground hits.
All Yaz tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Dead C record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Interpol record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Oblivians,
CMW,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
cv313,
the Human League,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Curtis Mayfield,
Soft Machine,
The Happenings,
Arcadia,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Crispy Ambulance,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Albert Ayler,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
E-Dancer,
Lucky Dragons,
The Tremeloes,
Roxette,
Prince Buster,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Roxy Music,
Monolake,
Barbara Tucker,
T. Rex,
Steve Hackett,
Girls At Our Best!,
Mandrill,
The Walker Brothers,
Jacques Brel,
A Certain Ratio,
Marc Almond,
The Flesh Eaters,
Moss Icon,
Malaria!,
Quando Quango,
Urselle,
Warren Ellis,
Lower 48,
Cameo,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Birthday Party,
Joyce Sims,
the Normal,
Whodini,
The Remains,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Neu!,
The Mojo Men,
Swell Maps,
Siglo XX,
Hashim,
John Holt,
Bang On A Can,
Metal Thangz,
Nico,
Procol Harum,
Hot Snakes,
Gichy Dan,
Don Cherry,
These Immortal Souls,
Kenny Larkin,
Yazoo, Yazoo, Yazoo, Yazoo.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.